


Third Strike

by Pennygirl612



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13673304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: Elizabeth takes matters into her own hands to remind her husband that there is more to life than just work.





	Third Strike

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar or its characters.
> 
> Am I the only one with a need for more Elizabeth and Peter quality time? Just saying...

“Reese?”

“Elizabeth,” Hughes said into the phone, instantly looking out his office to get a visual on Peter Burke. He sighed seeing him and his team behind closed doors in the conference room. If Elizabeth was calling him, it could only mean one thing. Lucky bastard, he thought. “Third strike?”

“Depends. Is my handsome husband on his way to meet his beautiful wife for lunch? No? Then, yes, third strike. Bad timing?” She asked, sweetly. 

Hughes shook his head knowing full well it wouldn’t matter to her if Peter was in the middle of a sensitive case or not. She expected, no demanded, that Hughes grant her what she needed. Once upon a time, he might have tried to argue with her, intervene on Peter’s behalf, but that was before he really knew her. Elizabeth Burke was a force of nature when she wanted something. Right now, she wanted her husband, no questions asked, and Hughes knew better than to stand in her way. “Nothing that the team can’t handle. We do have a budget meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning…”

Elizabeth cut him off. “I need a little time to prepare. If you could spare him Friday and Monday..?”

“Of course,” Hughes answered. He was silent for a moment, wondering if he dared speak up. Clearing his throat, he braved on. “Uh, Elizabeth, last time…”

He could hear the apology in her voice, “Yeah, I let things get out of hand. It won’t happen again, Reese.”

“Thanks, Elizabeth,” Hughes said before hanging up the phone. Glancing at Peter in the conference room, he couldn’t help muttering to himself, “Damn lucky bastard.”  
*****

Ending the call, Elizabeth looked up to find an opened mouth Mozzie staring hard at her from across the small table. “Oh, Mozzie, relax.”

“Relax?” he practically sputtered into the tea cup before him. She wasn’t sure he even knew he was still holding it just below his lips. “Relax?! You were supposed to have lunch with Husband Suit today? If he finds me here with you….”

Elizabeth smiled her most calming smile and reached across the table; taking the cup from his hand and placing it safely back on its saucer. The look on Mozzie’s face was priceless. To think he was worried that Peter would go off on a jealous rage finding them together was almost too much for her to take. But she knew it was no laughing matter to her conspiracy loving, government hating lunch partner. “Mozzie, Peter is not coming to meet us,” she assured him.

“But you told Paper Pusher Suit…” Mozzie turned suspicious. “Wait, what’s ‘third strike’ mean?”

Elizabeth took a sip of her own jasmine tea, before answering. “It means I need your help.”  
*****

When Peter finally managed to come home Thursday night, he thought for sure he was going to be in the doghouse. It hadn’t occurred to him until halfway through the budget meeting that he had completely and utterly forgotten about lunch with Elizabeth yesterday. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not that she had failed to mention it last night. Of course, he had meant to leave work several hours ago thinking he could take her to Donatello’s for dinner; but one thing had led to another at the office. Now as he treaded lightly into the house, his first thought was that something smelled damn good which reminded him that he may have worked straight through lunch…again. 

“El?” 

“In here,” he heard her call out from the kitchen.

Stripping off his jacket and tossing it carelessly unto the banister, Peter made his way into the kitchen; surprised to find the lights had been turned down to their lowest setting. In the corner, their small table was covered with a fancy cream colored tablecloth he swore he had never seen before, and a bottle of petit verdot was open, breathing between two lit candles. Mentally, Peter checked today’s date, and let a slow breath knowing their anniversary wasn’t for another few months. Then what was the occasion…? He was so lost in thought that he didn’t register Elizabeth until she was wrapping her arms around his waist drawing him to her; placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Long day?” Elizabeth asked as she pulled away from him to check whatever she had cooking in the oven. 

Peter was momentarily distracted by a fresh wave of enticing smells as she brought the casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on the table. Some type of braised beef, he thought as his mouth began to water and his stomach let out a fierce growl. Yes, he had definitely missed lunch today.

“Hmmm….yeah, budget cuts, and a rather boring new insider trading case. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was okay. Couple of client meetings,” she answered without looking up as she busied herself getting plates out of the cupboard. “Dinner’s ready. Go change into something more comfortable.”

Peter couldn’t help but watch his wife as she moved gracefully around the room, appreciating curves all in the right places. Even after all these years, she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. Just then she looked up and met his eyes, taking his breath away. “Go,” she said motioning with her arms. 

When Peter returned, his food was plated along with a glass of wine. Taking a seat, he studied his wife who met his gaze with a suspiciously innocent look; a look not that unlike a certain CI of his when he was up to no good. Narrowing his brown eyes, Peter watched as his wife raised her glass of wine and began eating. Shaking his head, Peter knew his wife would let him in on whatever she was up too in her own good time. Meanwhile, he wasn’t going to let that stop him from enjoying a perfectly good braised beef, so he raised his own glass in response and took a slow sip. 

Conversation was light over dinner and before Peter knew it, he was pouring the last dregs of the wine into their glasses. Elizabeth got up from the table, moving towards the fridge. “Hope you left room for dessert. I made tiramisu.”

Tiramisu. Hmmm, Peter thought, my favorite. Well, that confirms it. His wife was up to something. Still, he happily picked up his fork. He was enjoying the sweet, rich dessert so much he never noticed that Elizabeth hadn’t touched her slice. After he took the last bite and kicked back the last of the wine, he smiled contently at his wife and said, “Delicious! Sit while I clean up.” 

As Peter attempted to stand, a funny sensation flooded through him, and a strong wave of vertigo forced him back down into the chair. With a strange look on her face, his wife asked if he was okay. Peter attempted to laugh it off, “Yeah, just stood up too fast, I guess.” 

In what seemed like slow motion, her husband’s second attempt at standing had him swaying on his feet. Moving quickly to his side, she managed to break part of his fall, but her husband still went down hard to the floor with his head slightly brushing against the edge of one table leg. Standing over him, she shook her head in annoyance, “Damn, that was not part of the plan!”

Without panicking, Elizabeth picked up her cell phone and texted, “Code Red. Get over here now!” Sighing as she took in her husband who laid face down on the kitchen floor breathing heavily, Elizabeth moved to the wine rack for a fresh bottle. 

Fifteen minutes passed before there was a knock at the back door. Opening the door, she said immediately, “Houston, we have a problem.” 

“It didn’t work?” Mozzie asked in disbelief as he crossed the threshold. 

“No,” Elizabeth answered as she pointed to her sleeping husband. “It worked a little too well. He’s down for the count…in the kitchen! You said it would take 30 minutes to kick in. It was more like 5!”

Mozzie sputtered at the sight of Husband Suit. “Well, it’s not an exact science and you did have me on a tight deadline! Maybe a small adjustment…”

Elizabeth waved him off, “I’m not upset, Mozzie, but I do need help getting him upstairs. So stop fussing and grab his arms.”

Minutes later, both were huffing and puffing, as they got Peter upstairs and dropped him heavily unto the bed. Mozzie leaned against the wall, panting, as he watched Elizabeth take off Peter’s shoes. “If there’s nothing else…”

“No, Mozzie, thanks for your help,” Elizabeth answered as she went to pull off her husband’s socks. 

She laughed as Mozzie didn’t waste any time leaving the room. Then he stopped and poked his head back in, “It goes without saying that I was never here...”

“Of course.”

Mozzie smiled, “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”  
***** 

Not knowing how long it would take for the drug to wear off, Elizabeth settled into the chair next to the bed. Sipping a fresh glass of wine, she took a moment to study her husband. Rarely did she see him so still. Peter looked completely at peace as he snored softly, his chest rising slowly with every breath. It was rest she knew he needed, even if he didn’t know it himself. 

Her husband was an utter workaholic who easily got distracted by a new case and wouldn’t rest until the case was solved and his man (or woman) was in custody. When he sank his teeth into an investigation, he would routinely forget to eat lunch, and rarely made it home in time for dinner. Sleep? Rest? Well, those were things her husband skipped out on most. That was why she had implemented the third strike rule. Not because she felt neglected, Elizabeth had known what she was getting into when she married him after all, but rather, to ground her husband; to keep him from burning himself out. A fire could burn bright but it had to be maintained if it was going to last. She wanted her husband’s fire to be everlasting, and that meant on occasion, she had to take matters into her own hands. Of course, it was all for his own good. Elizabeth grinned…well, maybe, it wasn’t complete altruism on her part since she planned to get a little something out of it too! 

All this lead to Peter Burke being in his current position; naked and handcuffed to the bed. His legs spread eagled out with leather buckles holding each ankle in place. The blindfold was a particularly nice touch, she thought. As she looked fondly at her husband’s naked body, she felt the first stirring of heat. She had never understood why he had felt unworthy of her, that he wasn’t a good match physically with her. Maybe he wasn’t a Michelangelo’s David type like Neal, but her husband was all male, dripping of the right amount of testosterone and sexy as all get out. While she could appreciate the tight abs, piercing blue eyes, and blinding smile of her husband’s CI, he was a little boy with all charm. She preferred a man and anyone who had ever spent any time with Peter felt the strength of character and his charisma could not be denied. The fact that he looked great naked…well that was just an added bonus. 

Tearing her eyes off of her husband, Elizabeth took a small sip of wine and stood up, placing the wine on the dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, Elizabeth rummaged through and took out the things she would need: a leather riding crop, her favorite vibrator, the smallest two nipple clamps in the collection, and…her hand hesitated over the large dildo before deciding against it. She had enough play toys for start with. It was going to be a long and eventful weekend; best to pace herself. A groan from her husband caused her head to snap up. Game time, she thought happily.  
*****

Peter slowly swam his way through the fog of unconsciousness, groaning as he felt stiffness throughout his body. The first thing he noticed was even though his eyes were open; his world was still covered in black. Blindfold. The next thing he noticed was that he couldn’t move. His arms were restrained over his head, the cold metal of handcuffs tight around his wrists. His legs were spread wide and…he was naked. A wave of panic flooded through him as he tested the restraints without success. He couldn’t move. 

Peter took a deep breath, forcing the panic down. He had been in worse situations, hadn’t he? Although at the moment, he couldn’t remember when. Since his eyes were useless, Peter’s FBI training kicked in as he turned to his other senses. With another calming breath, Peter strained to pick up any sounds in the room. He heard movement to his right. He wasn’t alone. 

“Hello?” he called out. No response, but he heard a breath. Someone was definitely there. More movement as the person drew closer to the bed and that’s when another sense kicked in. He drew in air through his nose and smelled…perfume; more specifically, his wife’s perfume. Oh, shit, Peter knew instantly what was going on. Third strike! He thought he was in a bad situation, but he’d almost rather be kidnapped than deal with the wrath of his wife.

He felt something hard graze down his bare chest. “Uh, El?” His question was rewarded with a slap of hard leather across his thigh. Peter immediately closed his mouth, recognizing the feel of the riding crop. He felt another slap across his legs. Obviously, his wife was not ready to talk things out. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. He had to ride it out. How hard could that be?!   
*****

Elizabeth smiled when Peter called her name, not at all surprised that he had identified her so quickly. Her husband wasn’t just a FBI agent; he was a damn good FBI agent. A feeling of immense pride in her husband surged through her. Then she shook her head to clear it. Right now, his investigatory skills were not going to do him any good. Tonight, she was the one in charge, and for both of their sakes she was not about to show any mercy. 

With deliberate slowness, Elizabeth began removing her clothes; all the while watching her husband who was straining his head in her direction trying to pick up on what she was doing. She popped the button and ripped the zipper down from her jeans, smiling as her husband frowned and tested his restraints again. Shrugging them off, Elizabeth was down to just her bra and underwear. Feeling particularly wicked, she removed her bra and tossed it in the pile with her jeans and t-shirt, but her panties, the deep blue lace panties that Peter had gotten for her last Christmas, did not end up on the floor. Instead she walked naked over to Peter and carefully waved them over his face knowing the exact moment when her wet, sex scent was drawn in. 

“El,” Peter whispered as his body lifted up of the bed, straining in her direction. His cock showing the first signs of life at her smell.

Elizabeth returned across the room and sank comfortably back into the chair. Picking up the clamps, she clicked them open and closed before placing one of each of her nipples. The quick shot of pain sent ripples of heat further deep down inside her. She sat there a moment letting her body adjust to the pain. Next she picked up the vibrator. Eyeing her husband, she turned it on to the highest setting. The hum sound it projected caused Peter’s head to cock like a dog. She nearly laughed seeing her husband’s cock stand a little taller. Peter may not have yet identified the object, but his cock certainly had!

With one last look at her husband, she guided the vibrator over the outside of her folds. It glided easily back and forth through her wetness. A tingling sensation started deep in stomach as she teased herself for a full minute before slowly inserting the vibrator fully into her heat. Once inside, she lingered there feeling the fullness of the object and reveling in the sweet bliss of the vibration. With the first thrust, a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips and her hips started to move counter in time with each additional thrust. So lost in her own pleasure, she didn’t hear the moaning coming from across the room…  
*****  
She’s naked! Peter knew it the moment he smelled the scent of her pussy. And he was naked. Well, alright, he thought, this was the start of something good! He could visualize his wife sinking straight down onto his welcoming cock and riding him without mercy until both cried out in satisfaction. But then, he didn’t feel the expected weight on the bed as she moved to join him. Instead, his ears told him she was moving in the opposite direction. What the hell?! What game was she playing? Then his cock swayed against his stomach upon hearing a soft clicking sound. What would make that noise? He barely had time to give it any further thought when his cock reacted mightily, standing at full attention, at a new sound….a rather loud humming sound…almost a vibrating….Fuck Me! Peter nearly screamed out loud as recognition dawned on him almost simultaneously as his ears perked on his wife’s moan. A moan, he had often heard, a moan he was usually the cause of…but not this time. This time, his wife was getting pleasure without him; maybe even in spite of him! Fuck. 

Peter groaned and strained against the handcuffs even though he knew the futility of his efforts. He made a mental note to have Caffrey teach him some of his escape moves in case (and he hoped there was another “in case”) he found himself in similar circumstances again. He heard another gasp from his wife. He could visualize her left hand thrusting the vibrator deep inside her heat, the vibrator glistening with wetness as she pulled it all the way out before filling herself up again; all the while using two fingers from her right hand to draw hard tight circles over her nub. His own cock now throbbed knowing damnit that it should be the one thrusting hard and deep into that wetness and not some inanimate, albeit vibrating, object. Double fuck!

The sounds of pleasure grew louder and more closely together and Peter knew that his wife was close, so fucking damn close to orgasm; an orgasm that did not involve him! A point he knew his wife was purposely making. He had never known her to be so cruel! She was out of his reach, he couldn’t touch her (or even himself now that he thought about it, which might have been even crueler…), but he could hear her and damn he could smell her. He inhaled deeply taking all of her scent in and held it for as long as he could before being forced to exhale and draw in another shaky breath. And then it happened, and even though he knew she was close, it still surprised him when he heard her scream out as the pleasure overtook her. It was almost enough to drive Peter to his own orgasm…almost. 

So distraught was he over his own state, it took a moment to register the stillness. The hum was gone, the deep breathing and moaning, gone. A slight russle lead him to believe she was pulling on her clothes. Then he felt a breeze rush past followed by the quiet click of the door closing softly. He was alone…again, with only his thoughts for company. Well, his thoughts and a very, very uncomfortably hard dick.  
*****

Outside of the bedroom, Elizabeth leaned against the door shakily. The vibrator had been nice, but it wasn’t Peter. It didn’t quite have his length or fill her up just the way she liked or had grown accustomed to. Of course, it had gotten the job done both in terms of bringing her pleasure and in sending a clear message to her husband. But sex with Peter, well, there was no comparison to anything else. He put his whole heart and soul into pleasing her and never leaving her unsatisfied. He was willing to do whatever it took to get the job done; giving it his full, undivided attention and showing a patience that said he had all the time in the world and that was no place he would rather be or anything else he would rather be doing. She figured it was a lot like how he approached his job and ultimately what made him so good at catching the bad guy.

With a sigh, she pushed herself away from the door and forced herself to head downstairs before she could sabotage her own plans. This was not a time for her to get weak. This was not a time for her to think of her own needs….and she would be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge the fact that her own needs were telling her…screaming at her…to go back inside the bedroom and take her husband deep inside and fuck themselves to exhaustion. 

That visual alone nearly made her lose her footing as she descended the stairs. Wine, she thought, as she headed for the kitchen. She needed something to take the edge off. Maybe a quick walk around the block with Satchmo? The cold, dry air would settle her. And if that didn’t work, she could always call Mozzie. He would know how to bring her back from the edge of the cliff. After all, she had only completed phase one of her plan. There were at least 2 more phases before the night was through. With a smile, Elizabeth entered the kitchen and grabbed Satchmo’s leash. Calling Satchmo, she left the house.  
***** 

For Phase 2, Elizabeth didn’t bother being quiet as she re-entered the bedroom. It had only been about thirty minutes since she had left her husband. The first thing she noticed was the softening of his cock. She smiled knowing that would soon be rectified. In fact, it seemed it was already stirring again just be her mere presence. She found herself swimming in pride to know that even after all of these years together, she could still have that effect on him. She mentally chastised herself for allowing even the brief moment of distraction. Again, this was not about her. It was about her husband. His mental and emotional survival could very well depend upon her successful completion of her mission.

With renewed resolve, El walked straight over to the dresser which held a small tv with a vcr hooked to it. While she waited for the vcr to come to life, she began to undress making enough noise for Peter to know exactly what she was doing. A glance assured her that his cock was fully aware of her state of nakedness. Thus far, he hadn’t said a word and she thought she saw a stubborn line around his mouth. She almost laughed out loud. He actually thinks he has a chance to win this battle! Well, she was about to prove him oh so very wrong. 

As the tv screen came to life, she poured herself more wine and took a long sip; enjoying the fortifying warmth of the liquid as it went smoothly down her throat. With remote in hand, she sat down; curling her legs under her. Hitting play, she settled back in the chair, content to split her attention between the action on the screen and the new writhing coming from her husband as he recognized the sound coming from the tv speaker. Unconsciously, her hand went down to rub against herself…  
*****

Peter had some time to think while his wife was gone. It was quite obvious that he was in a heap of trouble here. The question was what to do about it. What was the best approach to take? Initially, he thought about being stubborn and holding out. He could play her game, couldn’t he? He could lay there without reaction and wait her out and not give her the satisfaction of getting to him. He could treat it like a stakeout, minus the ballgame on the radio and deviled ham sandwiches. All it required was patience. He had had the patience to chase after Caffrey for three long years before he had caught his prey. Three years! Surely, he could manage one night without giving in to his wife. Yes, this was what he would do. He wouldn’t lower himself to groveling. He was an FBI agent. She had known this when she married him. If he had to work late on occasion (okay, maybe more than on occasion), well, that was the job; that was who he was and he wouldn’t be apologizing for it. 

In the end, while his mind was willing, his body, particularly his cock, betrayed him. And it happened so fast, he really didn’t know what hit him. One moment, he was proudly remaining mute while his wife sat across the room from him, and in the next, his cock had sprung to life listening to the sounds of lovemaking. But not just any lovemaking, their lovemaking! 

His mind immediately provided a visual to go along with the grunting and dirty talk coming from the speakers. It was the night of their last anniversary, and he remembered what a turn on it had been for them both to know that every last movement and sound was being recorded. That night, their lovemaking had not been slow and sweet, but rather frantic, rough, and full of passion. He could almost feel his wife’s mouth deep throating him. Not wanting to bring the pleasure to an end, Peter had pulled himself out and returned the pleasure by going down on her. He repeatedly dipped and swirled his tongue deep into her while slowly rubbing his thumb against her clit. Peter didn’t need to imagine the ungodly moans and groans that he had elicited from El because they were now coming through the tv speaker loud and clear. 

Peter tried to remain strong, but his body writhed as he heard her scream out his name. He had never gotten such a response from her before when she shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure flooded through her. Then with a gleam in her eye, she had kissed him deeply before pushing him down on his back and straddling him. At first she was content to rub herself slowly against his length. Feeling the warmth build inside her again, she guided him inside of her and began riding him. Her husband was no passive bystander as he thrusted his hips up to meet her. As she threw her head back crying out again, Peter took the opportunity to flip her over, pinning her arms over her head with one hand while his other hand fingered her ass. 

Smiling down upon her, he remembered how he had hovered over her, the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. She had tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he held fast using his body weight to further pin her down. From the speaker, he heard his own husky voice as it asked her what she wanted. “You,” he heard her answer. When he hadn’t immediately responded, she had begged, “Please, Peter, I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me now!” Peter remembered how her words had made him crazy with want and desire. He had shown no mercy as he drove and pounded repeatedly into her. He had never been so rough with her but she met his every stroke eagerly until she was climaxing for the third time that night. From the speaker, he almost didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice as he yelled out, “God, El, fuck!” as he followed her over the edge. He remembered collapsing on top of her panting, out of breath, exhausted by their lovemaking.

Back in the present, Peter frowned and hung his head in defeat. His wife was pulling out all the stops and he didn’t even stand a chance. It was time to face the music and admit he had been beat.

“El, hon,” he whispered, “I surrender.”  
*****

Hearing those whispered words, El initially frowned. Already? She had thought for sure her stubborn husband would hold out longer. She had another phase planned yet. “El, please,” she heard him say, nearly begging. “Three strikes, I get it.” That’s when Elizabeth smiled, feeling triumphant in her victory.

“So let’s hear it, Mister.”

Peter took a deep breath and focused on where he had heard her voice. He spoke quickly to unburden himself. “First strike was last Wednesday when we were to go to the art show, and you know how much I love a good art show, but instead, I spent the evening in the van.”

“I recall you didn’t come home until after 2am. Go on.”

“Second strike was Friday when I was to make up for Wednesday by taking you to dinner and a movie.”

“Instead…”

Peter sighed. “Instead, I spent the evening questioning witnesses to a museum heist that happened right under our noses I swear if Neal wasn’t in the van with me….”

El cut him off. “Got home around midnight that time, I believe.”

Peter nodded, slowly. He suddenly really hated the blindfold. There was something off about his wife’s voice; she was too calm, too quiet. If he could just see her, he could figure it out. Instead he felt like he was literally flying blind into the depths of dark and dangerous waters. 

Not knowing what else to do, Peter simply continued. “And the third strike was lunch yesterday. I don’t even have a good excuse for that one. I was with my team in the conference room reviewing some cold cases. Simply lost track of time and forgot about it.”

El remained silent, watching her husband. She was waiting for him to put it all together. Sure, he had the three strikes, she would even let the foul tip of Sunday go, if he could just come to the proper conclusion. So she waited.

“El, I’m sorry.”

El dropped her head in frustration because she knew; she knew he wasn’t getting it. He thought this was about her. She should have left the room then. Instead, she heard herself ask him, “Sorry for what?”

“All of it. For not being there for you, for not taking you to the art show, to dinner, to the movies, to not spending more time with you, for leaving you here night after night alone wondering if I’m coming home in time to take you out, to wondering if I’m even going to remember that we had plans. All of it. I’m so sorry. I’ve let you down, again. I swore last time that I would do better, but…”

“…here we are again,” El finished for him.

“Yes, and you deserve better than that! You never complain, but how could anyone blame you for being upset? You shouldn’t be missing out on all the things that you enjoy, like the art show. You shouldn’t have a husband who seems more married to his job than you.”

As Elizabeth listened, she felt her body began to shake. Her normally brilliant husband was sometimes the world’s biggest idiot. Was this what he really thought this night had been about? Did he really think she was the type of wife who couldn’t handle time alone? The kind of wife who had no life outside of her husband, the kind of woman who defined herself by the man she was with? Without preamble, she ripped the blindfold off. She wanted, no needed, him to see her frustration, her anger. 

Peter blinked at the sudden brightness as the blindfold was ripped off, nearly taking some of his hair with the cloth as Elizabeth tossed it carelessly aside. When he regained his vision and was able to focus, he expected to see the loving eyes of his wife not a deep royal blue of fury glaring back at him. Peter took in a sharp breath. He thought it would be less frightening to stare down the barrel of a gun than to hold his wife’s gaze at this moment. Peter started to speak but a tilt of her head and a narrowing of her eyes, caused him to swallow back what he was about to say.

Elizabeth felt herself hit her breaking point. “Peter Burke! I’m…” she took a deep breath in an effort to calm down, but found her anger was too much. Seeing that Peter was about to speak, she gave her husband a hard look causing him to shut his mouth. Feeling herself shaking, Elizabeth knew she needed to step away and gather herself before even trying to talk with Peter. Like a whirlwind, she blew out the door. In the kitchen, she moved straight for the liquor cabinet. Wine was not going to cut it. 

She pulled out a bottle of Patron. Downing a quick shot, she welcomed the instant heat burning down her throat, settling in her stomach. It helped douse some of her anger; some, but by no means all of it. Picking up the bottle, she carried it along with her glass back to the bedroom where she proceeded to pour herself another drag. This time, she didn’t kick it back, but took a sip all the while staring down her husband, daring him to speak. While he met her gaze head on, he wisely remained silent. She watched as he shifted uncomfortable as she took a second small sip, her eyes never leaving his. 

It wasn’t until she finished the last swallow that Elizabeth trusted herself enough to speak. Her voice was low and soft; dangerously calm. “You know it upsets me when my brilliant, hard-working, sexy husband somehow thinks he is undeserving of me, but it really pisses me off to realize that you think this entire evening was about me being lonely and missing out on things. I know you don’t think I’m the kind of woman who defines herself by her husband! I know you don’t think I stay at home waiting with baited breath for your arrival! I know that you don’t think that I’m at home every night crying lonely tears waiting for you to come make me feel whole again. Peter Burke, you do not fucking complete me!”

Again Peter started to speak, but Elizabeth silenced him. “No, I don’t want to hear it. Go through them again. One at a time; the three strikes and don’t leave out the foul tip this time.”

Peter knew better than to argue with his wife when she was this angry so he did as instructed.

“First strike was Wednesday, the art show…”

“The new art exhibit at the Guggenheim was exquisite. Neal was the perfect escort, sharing his wealth of knowledge about the artists and giving his point of view on each piece.” El smiled. “We had a rather heated debate over impressionist versus post-impressionist.” 

Peter wanted to question the wisdom of taking a con artist and art thief to a museum containing priceless art, but wisely kept his mouth shut. The fact Neal had never mentioned it also caused concern. Peter made a mental note to contact the curator and ensure no pieces of value were missing or even slightly askew on the wall.

“Next,” El prodded.

“Second strike was a promised dinner and movie on Friday.”

“It was game night at June’s. I spent the evening smoking a stogie, drinking 25 year old Macallan, and ended up losing $250 playing 5 card draw. While I can’t prove it, June was cheating. Nobody is that damn lucky.”

Another look at Elizabeth, and Peter decided that now was definitely not the time to explain to his wife how gambling was highly frowned upon by the state of New York. Instead, he said, “Third strike…”

El immediately corrected him. “Foul tip.” When Peter looked confused, El gave him a hint. “Sunday.”

Peter sighed. “Sunday I spent the morning doing file reviews. Then Diana and Jones came over around lunch time and we strategized about a few of the cold cases. I remember you were with me in the living room on your computer.”

El nodded. “Correct. I put the time to good use by researching and plotting this intervention. Now, third strike.”

“Lunch yesterday.”

“Mozzie met me at that new tea room in Chelsea. A bit overpriced but the Rooibis was excellent and Mozzie raved about the Oolong. Also, he promised to help me improve my poker skills before June’s next game night.” 

Her eyes fired up, Elizabeth repeated. “You think this is about me. But as you now know, I’m not putting my life on hold for you. I’m not missing out on things I want to do. God, Peter, tonight wasn’t about me being lonely. You don’t think I knew was I was getting into? You are an FBI agent and that’s not a 9 to 5 job. I knew that when I made the “I love Italian” sign. Of course, I would like to spend more time with you, but your work is important. It’s who you are and you were born for the job. You are driven, stubborn, tenacious, obsessive all of which makes you damn good at your job. But that same passion leads you to ignore your own needs. You get distracted. You skip meals. You barely get any sleep. You don’t take breaks or get enough rest. Not only is it not healthy, it’s downright destructive! I will not allow you to destroy yourself. But neither will I allow you to think of me as weak or fragile!”

Peter’s response was unexpected. He laughed, full out laughed at her. He couldn’t help himself. She was puzzled and gave him a questioning look, daring him to explain himself.

“El, hon,” Peter said with a grin, “Look at me.”

Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. “I am looking at you! And stop laughing,” she added with a pointed glare.

Peter just laughed harder. “No, El, really look at me! I’ve been drugged, stripped naked, and now find myself cuffed and shackled to my own bed; all by my wife who by my count has committed no less than 3 felonies and a handful of misdemeanors tonight! Weak? Fragile? Defined by her husband? Hell, no, not my wife. My wife takes a renowned, unrepentant art thief to a museum full of priceless art. My wife smokes cigars, drinks scotch, and plays cards with an associate of the Rat Pack. My wife has tea and befriends conspiracy nuts. Just for fun my wife spends a leisurely Sunday plotting against her husband and finding creative ways to drive him sexually crazy. My wife is a total badass!”

Elizabeth cocked her head as she thought about what he had said. Her lips curled into a slow, sweet smile. After a moment, El decided she had to agree with Peter’s assessment so she proudly declared, “I am a total badass!” 

Peter smiled and turned sober. Lowering his eyes, he sighed, “Yes, you are, but, forgive me, El, if there are times I feel a little intimidated and less than worthy. I am in complete and utter awe of you, Elizabeth Burke, and frankly you are a lot to live up to.” Slowly, Peter raised his eyes to meet hers. If asked he would have said he felt totally exposed at the moment and it had nothing to do with being stripped naked. With a deep breath, he continued, “El, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to insinuate…I…”Peter struggled to find the right words. “You are the strongest, most independent woman I know. You are smart, funny, more than a little wild, and at times downright scary.”

“Oh, hon!” El turned sober. “Somebody has to protect you from yourself.”

“I know,” Peter answered.

“You are no good to me, your team, the FBI, or anyone if you burn yourself out!”

Peter nodded, “El, you’re right.”

“I don’t want to hear any argument…” she stopped as his words registered. “Wait…what?”

Peter smiled sheepishly, “You’re absolutely right. I have been burning the candles at both ends! I need to take better care of myself. First thing in the morning, I’ll talk to Hughes about taking time off…” Peter stopped speaking seeing the expression on Elizabeth’s face change to one of beguiling innocence. “Wait, I know that look! Hughes isn’t expecting me in the office tomorrow, is he?” 

El just gave what she hoped was her most innocent smile. “He might not be expecting you on Monday either.”

“You called my boss and asked him to give me time off?”

El didn’t even blink. “I may not have given the impression he had a choice…”

Peter threw his head back and laughed. Suspects confessed without Hughes having to say a word, agents withered in place if his eyes landed on them, but his wife, his crazy, loving wife was fucking fearless. “Bad. Ass! And as absolutely terrified as I am of you right at this moment, I have never, ever wanted you more!”

El climbed unto the bed, unfastened the shackles on his ankles and then uncuffed his hands. Then without hesitation, she impaled her heat straight down upon his straining for attention cock. “Is that so? Prove it!”

With a smirk, Peter grabbed her hips and flipped her over. Staring done upon her, he simply answered, “Yes, ma’am!”

Epilogue

First thing Tuesday morning, Peter strolled into work, whistling happily to himself, a visible spring in his step. As he bounded up the stairs to his office, he ran into his boss.

“Peter,” Hughes said, while looking his agent over from head to toe.

“Reese,” Peter responded, his face burning slightly with embarrassment as his boss narrowed his eyes at his face. Peter bit his lip to keep from chuckling as his boss just shook his head and continued into his office.

Closing the door behind him, Reese picked up his phone and texted Elizabeth, “Nice shiner.” He put down the phone and picked up his coffee cup. As he was taking a sip, his phone vibrated. As he read the response, Reese nearly spit the liquid all over his desk.

“Better than the crutches, don’t you think?!”

Damn, lucky bastard, Reese muttered


End file.
